Trust Issues
by thefakeviolinist
Summary: This what he didn't expect. John's reaction. It was cheerful, no questions of where-and-has-beens. Just an answer of, "Oh Sherlock, just in time, please do come in. I just put on the kettle." Post- Reichenbach


_**Hello, fellow readers..**_

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**So, I know I don't publish much work here, but I'm a bit happy to announce that this fic will be a regular updated piece. I'm not sure how many chapters, but I am very excited. Some chapters will be short, and some long.. So, let's get down to business..**

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**Summary: This what he didn't expect. John's reaction. It was cheerful, no questions of where-and-has-beens. Just an answer of, "Oh Sherlock, just in time, please do come in. I just put on the kettle." Post- Reichenbach**

**Rating: T (for cursing)**

**Genre: Romance and Friendship**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, 'Cept for the plot.**

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Sherlock really didn't expect this. Sure, he was glad that John didn't attack him, but the greeting wasn't right for a normal person who just found out his best friend was back from the dead.

Sherlock had stood awkwardly at the door and hesitantly knocked on it. He dug his head further into his coat collar so you couldn't see his mouth, only his ice blue eyes. His eyes were cast downward and only rose when he heard the creaking of the door.

"Oh- Sherlock?"

"Mrs. Hudson, hello."

Tears had sprung into her eyes, happy tears, but she knew she couldn't question Sherlock about his disappearance. He would only turn up his nose and ignore the question.

"John, poor thing's upstairs, probably on his seventh cuppa. He's taking the British thing too far." Mrs. Hudson smiled slightly at her own joke, but Sherlock's gaze was still sturdy as ever. Clearing his throat, he signaled Mrs. Hudson to step aside.

As soon as he got into the flat, he made his way upwards, and knocked on the door that separated Sherlock from his heart.

He knocked and heard a soft voice on the other side saying, "Coming!"

This is what he didn't expect. John's reaction. It was cheerful, no questions of where-and-has-beens. Just an answer of, "Oh Sherlock, just in time, please come on in. I just put on the kettle." Sherlock's eyes widened and he was surprised, but not enough to not notice the clicking of Johns cane.

Sherlock shook his head and settled on a wooden chair, thumping his long fingers on his dirtied trousers, rather obnoxiously. John, who looked a bit tired, but tidy, mind you, appeared with a smile and sat opposite of him. His hands shook slightly as he handed Sherlock the cup of tea, which Sherlock awarded with a tight smile.

Why isn't he asking? Sherlock narrowed his eyes towards John, while taking a long sip of the rather sweet coffee. He swirled it around his cup, silently deducing John out in the process.  
John, his blogger, had sat in his armchair with a whoosh of sound escaping his lips, and set his laptop in front of him on the coffee table. Cane, Sherlock noticed. It was still at his legs.

Surprisingly, the flat still had all of the junk, otherwise known as Sherlock's belongings, in it. Skull and violin on the mantle, the wallpaper sporting the fake, fake smile and the bullet holes wounding its face.

Sherlock couldn't take it, and he sat up moving towards his room, closing his door in the process.

And from the room he could hear the doctor laugh a melancholy chuckle, and the faint whisper of a, "Bloody emotions."

Days passed by, and Sherlock usually refused to leave the flat, until he got a reaction out of John. Mrs. Hudson was no good, all she had to offer was a soft smile and a, "I'm sorry, dear." before she waddled away.

God, he was worried.

Lestrade soon came to know about the Consulting Detectives appearance and gave out cases to Sherlock, along with apologies, of course. He vowed, though, to not tell Donovan and Anderson, he wanted the pleasure.

But that's beside the point.

It all happened that one day.

Mrs. Hudson had soon grown awfully worried, and so had Lestrade. John showed no sign of his knowledge about Sherlock coming back. Not in person and not on his blog, either.

Both Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade were talking in hushed tones, before John had arrived, thumping down the stairs.

Sherlock had quietly walked out to the hallway and hid upstairs, behind the wall and near the stairs, unceremoniously listening to the conversation.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Hudson." The tired tone, with forced laughter, of John drifted in the air, "Oh, Greg, what brings you here?"

Greg gulped and said slowly and gently, "I'm here for a case, for Sherlock. He's supposed to give me his.. deductions about it."

"What?" John asked, very seriously.

Mrs. Hudson butted in, "Dear, he's.. back and he is alive. He came back weeks ago, John."

Sherlock held his breath as he heard Johns cane crash to the ground, and he peered around the corner to see a unsteady John being held up by Lestrade.

And the next thing John had uttered in the strangled and worn voice of his, broke the sociopaths heart, his ice cold heart, into tiny pieces.

_"You see him, too?"_

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**Sorry about the angst and the shortness. I promise, for some people, that there will be more.. romance, I guess, in the next few chapters, but first I have to get rid of all of the angst.**

**Oh, another thing, I apologize if any terms are incorrect, for I am not British. Just bear with me! **

**I hope you will continue to read this, and feel free to drop some suggestions in your reviews.**

**Oh, and starting now, I'll be doing a Question of the Day (QotD), and the best answer or most frequent respond-ers will get a shout-out. Just to see who actually reads these.**

**So QotD: What was your favorite Sherlock episode and why?**  
**(I might answer that myself, in the next chapter as well.)**

**If I do get reviews, I will _try _and respond to them.**

**Thanks, guys, keep reading!**

**_thefakeviolinist_  
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